


The Slippery Slope, or, The Skirt That Tested Kuroo’s Willpower

by theauthorish



Series: A Series of Unfortunate Meltdowns (Courtesy of One Kuroo Tetsurou) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys in Skirts, M/M, Skirts, Teasing, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: A prank with Bokuto goes wrong; the setters are too pretty and their boyfriends can't handle it. Kuroo is a gay disaster. What's new?





	The Slippery Slope, or, The Skirt That Tested Kuroo’s Willpower

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA I'M BACK. After an eternity, another gay meltdown is here, and it's 3k words???? Amazing. I'll be putting this series on a bit of a hold, so I can work on plotting and hopefully writing my chapterfic, but I'll definitely keep coming up with ideas, and maybe even write a few shorter pieces on between chapters. Enjoy this for now :)
> 
> (Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and feel free to hit me up on tumblr to chat or make requests-- maybe I'll use them for this series lol. My url is the same as my username here, theauthorish.)

It started with a prank.

 

More accurately, it started with Bokuto: “Kuroo! Bro! Wanna play a prank on Kenma and Akaashi?” he’d said, as the two setters left the gym to buy them some drinks.

 

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow. “Depends, what kind?”

 

Bokuto grinned and leaned in. “Let’s go grab their clothes and replace em with these before they shower,” he said, whipping out a plastic full of fabric from who-knew-where. Tetsurou learned a long time ago not to wonder about it.

 

Tetsurou frowned. What on earth… Reaching in, he pulled out one of the articles to better see it-- “Girls’ uniforms?” He stared at Bokuto incredulously, Where... “Where did you even  _ get  _ an idea like this?”

 

When all he got was a stupid eyebrow waggle, Tetsurou snorted. Jeez… what an idiot.

 

…

 

Probably. Or some evil genius, because now, Tetsurou was  _ thinking  _ about it. Kenma in a little skirt, showing off his long, perfect legs and accentuating the softness that was in Kenma’s features… 

 

“So???” Bo nudged Tetsurou with an elbow, lips stretched into an almost feral smirk. “Are we doin’ it or what, bro?”

 

There was really only one answer to that. “Fine.”

 

With that, Tetsurou signed himself up for a day of torture.

 

/////

 

They made quick work of swapping out the setters’ clothes, hiding away their actual spare sets in Tetsurou's locker. By the time Kenma and Akaashi had returned, bearing semi-cold bottles of brightly colored sports drinks, Tetsurou and Bo were back where they had started (in clean, not-sweaty clothes this time), sitting on the floor and making aimless conversation.

 

“But think about it! An anime about volleyball would be so  _ cool _ ,” Bokuto was insisting.

 

Tetsurou shook his head. “No. Dude, sports animes are always the same--”

 

“Then we could make ours better!”

 

“Ours? Since when were  _ we  _ the ones making it? You can't draw. I can't draw. Neither of us can act--”

 

Akaashi handed Bokuto a drink. “Actually, Bokuto-san is a proficient actor, I’ve been told.”

 

“Hey Kenma, where’s-- oof. Jeez. You didn't need to throw it at me.” Tetsurou plucked the bottle from his lap where it had fallen after hitting him squarely in the chest. He stuck his tongue out at Kenma, who merely rolled his eyes, before turning back to Akaashi. “Oya?”

 

Akaashi sighed. “Yes, Kuroo-san. One of the other third-years is classmates with him. Apparently back in first year they did a play for the cultural fair,” he explained. He twisted the cap off his own bottle, taking a swig.

 

Bokuto, predictable as always, puffed up. “Yeah! I was the lead!!!”

 

Tetsurou waved a hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah.” He turned to poke Kenma’s knee. The setter had plopped on the floor behind him and was now intently tapping away at his phone. “I thought you wanted to change?” Tetsurou thought he did a decent job of maintaining a normal expression; his mind was in meltdown mode, remembering what Kenma would wind up changing into, but… well, he  _ did  _ want to see it. And Kenma was cute when he was embarrassed.

 

Kenma wrinkled his nose, slapping Tetsurou’s hand away. “Tired.”

 

“Stinky,” Tetsurou retorted. He poked Kenma again. “Sweaty.” Another poke.

 

“Ugh. Fine.” Kenma stood. “This is why I didn't want to be the one to get the drinks,” he muttered, heading towards the showers.

 

Tetsurou chuckled. “It was yours and Akaashi's turn. Bo and I got them last time.”

 

Bokuto meanwhile, was less subtle about urging his setter to go get clean-- all but shoving Akaashi in the direction of the locker room. Tetsurou fought back a snicker at Akaashi's thoroughly suspicious, but somehow resigned face, lips twitching into a smirk as Bo continued to insist on his own innocence and  _ come on, ‘Kaaawshiiii hurry up already! _

 

Eventually it was just Tetsurou and Bo again, waiting for their partners to finish up their showers.

 

As soon as they were out of sight, Bokuto was guffawing, clutching at his stomach as he laughed. Tetsurou started cackling himself-- mostly at Bokuto’s over the top reaction as opposed to actually finding the prank that funny. “Man, I can't wait to see their faces!” Bo said.

 

Tetsurou shook his head as his laughter petered out. “Dude, we are  _ so _ dead.”

 

And so they were.

 

/////

 

It was twenty minutes later when the setters walked out. Tetsurou and Bokuto stared, eyes wide, jaws slack; they had not thought this through.

 

Both the setters were exceedingly pretty; this was obvious to anyone who looked. Akaashi, with his artfully tousled curls and his half-lidded, deep blue eyes framed by long lashes, with his lithe frame corded with muscle… muscle that was fully on display, now, with the shortness of the skirt, no less… he was a vision to behold.

 

And then Kenma… God, Tetsurou couldn't tear his eyes away. Kenma, with his wide, cat-like golden eyes, his soft, delicate features a counterpoint to Akaashi's almost statuesque beauty-- his silky hair  _ tied back  _ for once to expose the smooth line of his jaw… 

 

And Akaashi looked like sin incarnate, like a porn fantasy come to life, but Kenma… he gave off an air of innocence, one that was all the more emphasized by the glaring difference between him and the other setter. He looked gentle and almost shy, pure and precious and like something to be protected. Tetsurou wanted to wrap him up in his arms and cuddle him until they both wasted away, or give him all the apple pie he wanted.

 

But there was something else too. Something darker, more possessive in him. It made Tetsurou desperate to mark him anywhere he could-- from his smooth, pale thighs half-bared by the uniform to the milky expanse of his neck… it was almost primal. Tetsurou wanted to leave something on his skin to show the world that Kenma was taken, that this gorgeous little kitten belonged to him.

 

Even though he didn't. Because Kenma was a person, not an object, and Tetsurou really ought to smother that disgusting animalistic jealousy of his.

 

And then, oh, Kenma was reaching up, twirling some of his fringe around his fingers, playing up the sweet innocent thing he had going, and… Tetsurou was  _ so gone _ . 

 

“Are we going or not?”

 

“I-- huh?”

 

“Are we going or not, Tetsu? I thought you said we'd hang out at your place.”

 

Tetsurou shook his head to clear it. “I… yeah. Yeah. Let's go.” He stood, falling into step beside Kenma as they led the way to the Kuroo residence. Neither Kenma nor Akaashi had mentioned the outfits, acting as if nothing was wrong, and Tetsurou didn't know how to handle this. He’d been prepared for Kenma to pout, to call him stupid and demand their clothes back. But no. Kenma was being the same Kenma as always, although a little more coy…

 

As of now, he had his DS out, allowing Tetsurou to give him small tugs to guide him away from any lamp posts or whatever else might come in the way. When they reached the train station, Tetsurou nudged him gently. “Come on kitten, the station is crowded, keep the game first?”

 

Kenma sighed, but saved and moved to tuck the console away-- when the stylus slipped from his grip. “Ugh.” He bent over to pick it up, and Tetsurou found himself riveted to the sight of the skirt rising just a little, coming dangerously close to revealing Kenma’s ass.

 

“Kitten--” he choked out, meaning to tell Kenma to be more careful about the skirt, people might stare--

 

Kenma straightened up then, securing the stylus in its slot and stuffing the game into his pocket again. “Yes Tetsu?” He blinked wide eyes at him, looking almost angelic. His now-free hands fidgeted a little, tapping absent patterns on his thigh, then picking at the skirt’s hem, and  _ sweet lord…  _ Tetsurou's mouth ran dry.

 

What did he want to tell Kenma? Surely he’d had words to say. Um. What were they…? 

 

“Tetsu?” Kenma tugged at the skirt again, pulling it a little lower over his legs self-consciously-- this of course, only served to draw Tetsurou's attention even more to the inches of skin the skirt bared, usually covered by Kenma’s shorts. “Tetsu,” Kenma prompted again.

 

Bokuto and Akaashi were staring at them. At him. Waiting for the Nekoma pair to lead them to the right train. Right.

 

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Tetsurou started walking again, and the others followed suit. For a moment, Tetsurou met Bokuto's eyes. The spiker’s held understanding and a struggle that mirrored his own. Giving him a nod in solidarity, Tetsurou spun around once more.

 

A brief train ride and a short walk later, they found themselves in Tetsurou's house, pulling off their shoes and calling out their presence from the genkan. Like clockwork, Tetsurou immediately moved to switch on the Xbox, and Bo ducked down to select a game from the small shelf beside the TV. Kenma went into the kitchen to grab them some snacks, and Akaashi went about clearing some of the Kuroo family mess (they weren't very bothered by clutter, so there was always some around) to give them a sizable area for play. It was all very routine, par for the course for one of their weekend scrimmages.

 

At least, it was, until Kenma called out for Tetsurou from the kitchen.

 

Confused, Tetsurou stood and padded out of the living room. He couldn't need help finding anything, could he? Kenma had grown up here just as much as he had at his own house. Sometimes he knew where things were better than Tetsurou himself, or even his parents. 

 

“You alright, Ken--” He stopped short in the doorway, coming to such an abrupt halt he almost fell forward. Kenma was stretched on his tiptoes, blouse lifting up to reveal the slate of his stomach and the faint lines of muscle from volleyball. And his skirt…  _ his skirt _ . Tetsurou would never be over that  _ damned skirt _ . Kenma in skirts needed to be illegal and he should never wear one again. 

 

Or maybe the opposite. Maybe it should be illegal for him  _ not  _ to wear skirts.

 

The point was, Tetsurou was absolutely  _ fucked,  _ this prank was not funny at all, because Kenma’s skirt had ridden up a little in the back too, and just as before Tetsurou found his gaze glued to the soft skin and--  _ oh good god in heaven--  _ the edge of black boxer briefs peeking out from beneath.

 

“Tetsu,” Kenma murmured, pouting as he dropped to his feet again (the skirt flared a bit as he did, and  _ godgodgod  _ Tetsurou was amazed he didn't have a nosebleed). “Tetsu, help me.”

 

“I… uh…” Tetsurou finally managed to tear (with immense difficulty) his eyes away from Kenma’s legs, meeting the setter's own. There was a glint in them, and for a second, Tetsurou thought that Kenma might have planned that, that he might have been purposely taunting Tetsurou. But then the glint was gone, and he had to wonder if maybe he’d just imagined it.

 

Probably.

 

“Yeah?” Tetsurou finally croaked out. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I don't know why that came out so gravelly, maybe I need a drink--”

 

“Mmhm,” Kenma hummed, brushing past Tetsurou to the fridge. He pulled out a pitcher of water and bent down to grab a glass from one of the cabinets (and this time, Tetsurou averted his gaze to the floor, yup, definitely didn't stare at Kenma’s butt at all). He filled the glass half full and held it out to Tetsurou with a small quirk of his lips. “You’re probably just thirsty.”

 

Tetsurou was definitely thirsty. Definitely,  _ definitely  _ thirsty. Especially since Kenma still hadn't tugged his skirt back into place.

 

He downed the whole glass in one go, but it didn't really help much. Well. He tried.

 

“Help me get down the cocoa? Akaashi said it would be cold tonight,” Kenma said.

 

Tetsurou nodded absentmindedly, easily stretching up and pulling down the box of cocoa that Kenya had only managed to nudge further from the edge with his fingertips.

 

“Here.” He held it out. “Are you making us some?”

 

Kenma shook his head. “Akaashi said he would. Just asked me to get the cocoa and the pot out.”

 

Task done and snacks in hand, Kenma breezed onwards to the living room, Tetsurou staring guiltily (but not guiltily enough to stop) at his ass as he went.

 

/////

 

This was too much for Tetsurou's weak heart. Too much.

 

Tetsurou didn't know which of the setters had suggested it, but now both he and Bokuto were trying not to drool as their boyfriends played Just Dance, skirts flying with every movement-- it didn't help that they’d chosen a particularly sultry song either; Tetsurou couldn't even recall its name, he was so busy watching Kenma move. He hadn't even known Kenma could move like  _ that _ .

 

So dazed was he, Tetsurou didn't even register Kenma calling his name until the younger boy leaned forward to wave a hand in his face. “Sorry, what?”

 

And okay, Tetsurou definitely didn't imagine the twitch of Kenma’s lips. He was absolutely being teased. He couldn't find it in himself to mind, even though he knew he probably should, even if just because it was embarrassing. “I said,” Kenma began, enunciating each word clearly. “That I lost. And Keiji and I had a bet-- so now I have to do a couple’s dance with you.”

 

Kenma was pouting just a bit, lips pursed and arms crossed over his chest. “Come on already, Tetsu. I want to get it over with.”

 

“Kenma-- I don't think I could handle--”

 

Tetsurou was saved from that disaster (normally, he was a  _ pro _ at Just Dance, enough of one that sometimes he caught Kenma staring, but he didn't think he’d be able to focus if Kenma was in that stupid fucking uniform, especially if he did another song like the one he’d just finished) by a squeak from the couch. The Nekoma duo turned to find Bokuto red-faced, left incoherent by something Akaashi must have said.

 

The Fukurodani setter, meanwhile, was stood behind the couch, leaning nonchalantly against the backrest with a mischievous smile on his lips-- which lay mere centimeters from Bokuto's ear. “Ah, do you not feel well after all, Bokuto-san? I told you not to overdo it at practice today.” There was a slight edge to his voice that Tetsurou  _ never  _ wanted to hear again, because it sounded horrifyingly close to a  _ bedroom _ voice. It was one thing to know that his friends got up to that sorta thing. It was another thing entirely to witness anything even remotely close to foreplay. That was just gross.

 

Bokuto stammered something unintelligible, but he stood, still the approximate shade of a cherry tomato, and yanked on his jacket. He and Akaashi left without so much as a goodbye.

 

Puzzled, amused, and possibly traumatized, Tetsurou smirked. He faced Kenma, ready to make a dumb joke and waggle his eyebrows--

 

But Kenma was frowning, bent at the knee to rub at his ankle. It looked like he’d been caught mid-step towards Tetsurou, and Tetsurou was immediately worried. “What's wrong, kitten?”

 

Kenma grunted. “I think I twisted my ankle a little earlier. It feels funny.”

 

“You didn't sprain it or anything?” Tetsurou was already standing, walking into the kitchen to get some ice, but Kenma stopped him.

 

“No, nothing like that. But I don't really want to walk anymore than I have to.”

 

Tetsurou shot him a crooked grin. “You never want to do that anyway.”

 

“Hm. Carry me to the bedroom?”

 

Tetsurou’s breath hitched, and his brain ground to a halt. The statement felt so  _ loaded _ , but no, no, Kenma definitely didn't mean it that way, Tetsurou was imagining things, and he really shouldn't be, because Kenma was pure and precious and Tetsurou should not be thinking perverted thoughts like how badly he wanted to pound Kenma into the bed until he moaned--

 

_ TETSUROU, STOP. _

 

“Tetsu, please. I left my PSP in there yesterday and I want to beat that boss.”

 

Tetsurou swallowed down the lump in his throat. Kenma needed help. Right. Because his ankle hurt. Right. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, sorry. I'm a little off today, I guess.” With a weak laugh, Tetsurou crossed the short distance between them and scooped Kenma up bridal style.

 

Within 0.5 seconds, Tetsurou regretted his decision (but also, not really because Kenma was hurt and Tetsurou could never make him suffer if he could help it). Having his hands finally on the stretch of skin he’d been ogling today, with the skirt at risk of shifting even further, was almost too much for him to bear.

 

The walk to his own bedroom had never felt so long. It felt like it took ages to trek down the hall, his hand so, so close to Kenma’s… no. He would not think that. Nope. Think about cats. Yeah, cats-- and he was back to Kenma and that stupid pet name and-- and--

 

The fact that Kenma had told him several weeks ago at that damn training camp that he actually  _ liked  _ it.

 

Tetsurou nudged the door open and set Kenma down carefully onto the mattress. Apparently, the torture Tetsurou had been subjected to in the past hour wasn't enough. Kenma adjusted himself so he was on his stomach, snatching the PSP from beneath one of the pillows and immediately switching it on. This meant Tetsurou was faced with Kenma’s ass, barely covered by his skirt, and Tetsurou really just wanted to  _ bite it _ but he  _ couldn't  _ because Kenma had to agree and Tetsurou wasn't about to ask.

 

Several minutes passed. The only change in their positions was Tetsurou had shut the door and plopped down to sit, leaning his back against it. He had a glazed over look about him, contemplating his slow demise over the course of today and how he would never, ever go along with one of Bokuto's pranks again in case they ended up like this. (That was a lie.)

 

Then Kenma said, “Tetsu?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you going to fuck me yet, or can I change?”

 

…

 

Tetsurou.exe had stopped working.

 

/////

 

“Kuroo was a great bro. The best bro. I can't believe I’ll never have another ‘oyaoya’ showdown with him!”

 

-Bokuto Koutarou, in his eulogy for one Kuroo Tetsurou


End file.
